Free Highland Scandal by Mageela Troche

She hated it. It made her feel as if she were a liar and betrayer. To who? Both Lachlan and Eacharn.
    “I would have chosen the tarts as well.”
    “I commend you on your choice.”
    He took Rowen’s hand. “It warmed me to arrive and see you before the fire with a bairn on your lap. I wish to come home to a scene such as this.”
    “That sounds divine. I must warn you, the grains foretold that I would have five children.”
    “Five. Good thing we shall be married within days. We must get started on that.”
    Both looked up as Lachlan strolled in. Rain caught on the ends of his russet brown hair and beaded on his plaid. For across the hall, she saw the stiffening of his shoulders and the shallow rise and fall of his chest from his building anger.
    She peeked at Eacharn. He wore a polite visage. He knew the truth and chose to ignore it, pretending what he witnessed, what hung thickly between them and blended with the smoke from the hearth, somehow did not exist.
    Rowen swore to herself that he was a good man. That she was not hurting him since he bore her no tenderness. She chose to hold on to that falsehood. It eased her guilt. As she looked around, she noticed the others pretending not to notice, but each acutely aware of it, for it pulsed in the air.
    Lachlan joined the men. Caelen raised his brows at Lachlan, sending him a silent message. One he chose to ignore as he turned away from it.
    “Let me pour you a drink to banish the chill and celebrate your kill.”
    “Aye.” Eacharn took Sioda from her.
    She went to the table and poured him a cup. She took great interest in the liquid swirling about the cup. She held it with two hands as she brought it to Eacharn. For a moment, she could fool herself into thinking she was with her family. But for the looming presence of Lachlan hovering behind her, ready to tap her on the shoulder and demand her attention. She hadn’t done her duty. Her maidenhead was meant for her husband.
    Duncan’s shadow fell over her and jolted her. “Here is my bonny lass.” Sioda stretched out her pudgy arms and shook her dimpled hands at her father. Duncan took her and threw her into the air, earning her squeals of delight.
    Mrs. MacBheath came in to hall. “I am in need of the Lairdess. One of the kitchen maids burned herself.”
    “She is still seeing to Father Murray. I can help.” Rowen followed Mrs. MacBheath to the kitchen. She found the kitchen maid clutching her hand and tears on her lashes. Rowen quickly set to caring for the young lass. It was not the first time she had been burned, and working in the kitchen surely meant that it would not be the last. Rowen warned her to be more cautious after instructing her on how to care for her injury.
    Rowen had stepped beyond the kitchen’s arched threshold and was snatched back. She swallowed her yelp of surprise as she looked upon Lachlan’s face. He jerked her to the shadows and far from the eyes of the kitchen servants.
    He cupped her face. “How are you feeling?”
    “Well.” The word was all she needed to speak.
    “I do not regret last night. It was my greatest joy.” He sealed his mouth against hers. She couldn’t think of anything and lost herself in his embrace and the firm, heady feel of his kiss. He tasted of spicy wine and of something that was just him. She snaked her arms around him and moaned.
    Lachlan jerked away. Ailsa stood in the center of the light. Her eyes were wide and her mouth gaped open. The little color she possessed had washed away. She looked away before she hurried into the kitchen.
     
    * * * *
     
    Lachlan stood at the paddock and watched the groom run the horse through its paces. “He has the traits of his sire.”
    “Aye, he’s has his spirit, too. He’ll make a fine hunter.” The groom made a few clicking sounds and the horse trotted faster, tossing his mane.
    Lachlan leaned on the fence rails, hanging his arms over the edge. He didn’t need to be here. He lingered far from the castle and